Down and Out in the Kanto Region
by Proudnewamerikan
Summary: Maxwell Black: former Professor's aide, would-be Professor, and now Pokemon trainer. Thrill to his travels and encounters as he seeks to explore the world, overthrow the Old Man, and avoid danger and excitement...ah well, two out of three ain't bad!
1. Introduction: In Which Nothing Happens

**Notice: The Pokemon games, regions, characters, creatures, etc etc are all properly owned by their respective owners. This fiction is written entirely for personal entertainment purposes.**

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><p>What?...<p>

Excuse me?...

Oh, sorry. Hello there...before we formally meet, would you be willing to tell me...are you a boy or a girl?

...Aha! I knew it! I can see by the expression on your face that you've been subjected to the idiotic queries of the Old Man as well! I see he's still up and about, rot his senile mind. Eh, what's that? Why am I insulting the Old Man?

...Oh no. You approached me, and now you're hooked. You can't get away that easily now. The name's Maxwell. Maxwell Joshua Black, Max to no one and Josh to even less...you can call me Maxwell for now. As for the Old Man, well, he's a short story in a long, ongoing tale, and one I doubt i shall ever...*shudder* forget.

Oh don't get me wrong, in my own spiteful way I respect the Old Man, have no doubt. I just have a little...beef, if you will, with his continual presence and influence over this little region of ours. To make matters short, I aim to replace him eventually.

And his blasted Pokedex.

... Arrogance? Oh, yes, and likely foolish arrogance at that. The Old Man didn't get to be where he is now without being once clever, daring, and very, very good at garnering power, and I don't have anywhere near the experience, resources, or even will myself I'm sure to take him on and succeed. But I'll be damned if I won't try.

Why am I here, then? Well...that's the ongoing tale now really, isn't it? It's been long, dangerous, and thoroughly unpleasant. Blasted Pokemon, blasted Team Rocket, blasted Red...

Interested? Then sit down, and get comfortable...it's a long way to go. And get me a drink while you're at it, my throat's going to be parched by the time I get halfway through Vermilion.

Anyways, it all started when at the glorious age of ten years old, one Maxwell Joshua Black did something else instead of his Pokemon journey...


	2. Chapter 1: In Which I Fail To Move Out

It was always me and my father, for as long as I've known. By all accounts, my mother was a kind, investigative, easy-going person who loved adventure - the fact that my father was personally known to me as a standoffish, quiet, reserved man who valued privacy and a drink in the evening to this day causes a headache whenever I try and imagine how they fell for each other. I'm sure she would have been a...good influence on me, had she not been taken at my birth. I won't pretend any grief at her death, nor can I conjure true, solid sadness, for I was only just born into the world when she did leave, and never was able to really meet her as a person. But I did feel the void in my life growing up, and that was in my father.

He worked as an office drone in one of Viridian's many small offices, and along with his natural demeanor that meant most nights consisted of the two of us sitting alone in a small house we barely lived in, eating dinner in silence and then reading or watching the television until going to sleep. We never talked much at all - perhaps fifty words in a single day, mostly consisting of "Time to get up," "Night," and the occasional "I love you, son." This did not exactly mold me into a moral, upstanding citizen, of course - school reports brought home solids Bs and Cs, extracurricular activities consisted of books, television, and slacking off, and as I grew older thoughts on what I wanted to be as a man strayed from 'no idea' to 'hadn't thought about it'. I was more like your average somewhat moral, slightly slouched citizen - and the combination of semi-long black hair, brown eyes, and a predisposition for looking like I was semi-stoned at all times did me no help. Small wonder then that I was expected to join all my other fellow average students and be tossed out into the world at age ten to begin my Pokemon journey.

Only my tenth birthday came and went, and I didn't go on my Pokemon adventure.

Understand, mind you, there are a few legitimate reasons not to go on that practically enforced 'journey' everyone's supposed to take for a year or so to get involved in and used to the world at large. Most kids are only in it because their school and parents told them to, and it's theoretically designed to teach them rot about learning how to make friends and learn abotheir region and all sorts of other junk that could easily be simply taught just by, you know, sticking them in school for two more years. But there are outliers. Some ten year olds just know already where they want to go in life, and instead go directly into the second tier of the primary education system. Some are just too...erm, unsafe in one way or another to even go on the journey, and are kept home for their own life. Some are kept from going by their parents, and don't have the guts or the ability to defy them.

I was not one of those people. Oh, sure, I was slightly interested in the Pokemon journey at first - I was only ten years old at the time, all of the people I knew at school, were doing it, why shouldn't I have been? But I was neither committed nor really prepared for the idea, and it came back to bite me in the ass when, in the summer of my tenth birthday, I finally arranged a Friday meeting to get my very own Pokemon and step out into the world.

I had gotten up at the right time, eaten my breakfast, said a temporary goodbye to my father - he needed to work, so I'd be alone for the day without any school and had set off at a good pace from the house down to Route 1. Did not attempt to rile up the Pokemon in the tall grass for kicks, had my backpack all loaded up with cash ready to be blown on any one of a variety of "starter's sets"...and then I arrived in Pallet Town, walked up to Oak's Laboratory, pushed on the door...*thunk*

Locked.

It was locked - the lights were dark inside, or at least from what I could tell by staring into the dark glass on either side of the door. And the sign on the door? "Closed for the Weekend: Please Come Again Soon!" Yeah, I should have just manned up, gone back to Viridian, then come back on Monday, and ignored the whole thing. I should have done that, but I didn't - as said, I was ten! No, no, instead I had to go all emotional - the hint of tears starting to form, my face getting slowly redder, my only life thoughts of any sort now blocked for what seemed like forever to a ten year old snot-nosed kid. How long I stayed in front of that dark, locked door I cannot remember, but I still can remember when, after a while of looking at the ground and trying to summon the reserved, neutral strength of my father (and failing), I heard the door open.

"Huh?...Woah, bro! What are ya doing out here, didn't you see the sign?" It was one of Oak's assistants, maybe fifteen at the time but damn old to me, a guy who looked something out of a Hoenn magazine - that is, bleached blond hair, a spray on tan, and way more 'attitude' than he really deserved to have. I explained the situation, including the point that I had picked this day for my Pokemon journey start, to the aide, and for his part, after I did he seemed to get it. "Oh little man, don't worry about it! The Old Man's pretty soft in the head these days, he probably just forgot to write it down and never remembered! C'mon, I'll let you in..."

Jack was the assistant's name, and he took me into the Lab to go speak personally with Oak. And it was Jack, really, who would be responsible for then kicking off my solidified, assured life goal. For Oak (or "the Old Man", as Jack and now I have, will, and shall forever know him by) had no Pokemon to hand out whatsoever. Oh sure, he had some rare and foreign species just imported, but who gives those out to little kids, really? No, no, he was all out of available Pokemon, wouldn't be getting any in until next month, was totally sorry I must have been the only one to make an appointment he was so sorry. Bleh.

But then...he saw something in my eyes, I like to think. He can't have been too far gone back then, and I like to think the Old Man had at least some redeeming value in getting me to where I am today. Because, after all the apologies and explanations to a ten year old kid who wouldn't understand any of it, he finally offered me one small concession, just for a little while - perhaps he could hire me on as a lab aide?

I took the job on the spot.


	3. Chapter 2: In Which Several Years Pass

That temporary laboratory assistant position has lasted a long time now, because it was seven more years until I did finally get a Pokemon of my own - and in the end, I never did go on my Pokemon Journey. If I had, though, would I be here, where I am now, sitting in the lobby of the Elite Four Colosseum? Almost assuredly not. One or two years is the norm, you know, for the Journey. After that, most people either go back to school, go into the workforce, or have to try and break into the big leagues if they want to be taken seriously. Otherwise, well...the Pokemon Journey is only the path, not the result, eh?

Instead, though, I became an aide to the Old Man - six dollars an hour starting wages, thirty six hours a week from 10-4 Mondays through Saturdays. My job consisted of, well, anything that needed doing that was too low-importance for the Old Man or another assistant to deal with. Early on, it mostly involved custodial work - making sure everything was turned on and cleaned up in the mornings and turned off at night, washing or brushing away the spills and breaks left by wayward Potions or shattered Pokeballs, and shouting at rowdier kids to quiet down so the other aides and the Old Man could work. As time went by, I'd have to take on more, and more tasks...but, in the early years, that was left up to Jack and Cindy. You see, there were two other aides as well, at least early on, to help me out and show me the ropes of working with the Old Man.

Jack Valence was the guy who first let me into the Lab that day, and I was right - he was Hoenn born and bred, the kind of guy who can't imagine summer without the beach or winter without the ash piles. He acted as a big brother and illicit confident to me, warping my innocent mind with his constant nudges, double entendres, and occasional glimpses of one of his...ahem...very unprofessional magazines. He was also very interested in the ladies, a fact I can not sadly ever forget due to his frequent pointing out to me about...sigh...'choice aspects' of girls he liked. Fortunately, his job was in the care and upkeep of the various Pokemon habitats in the Lab's private property, and it also took up most of his time...leaving me able to actually focus on doing my job.

Cindy Hack, meanwhile, was very nearly the opposite. She was even shyer and more reserved at least publicly than my father was, and that's saying something from me. She preferred not to speak much with Jack and me, probably because Jack was always lewd and I was a kid, but from what I could get out of her when she did speak, she seemed to have a fairly nice, if somewhat strict, homelike. Cindy was the one responsible for the electronic databasing and so forth, which was the reason I never learned about the Pokedex until a bit later, but it also meant that she was also very busy at work for much of the time.

And so the years passed. My father and I actually grew closer after I took the job, as weird as it may sound - something about us both working, and the experience of that day made me try and open up more to him, and he opened up as well in response. We would regularly talk about our work, what our plans were...and we started doing things. We'd play sports in the park, go walk together in the Viridian Forest, even go about town and take in an occasional gym battle as some competitive trainer tried to take on Giovanni, the local Gym Leader. I...I really am glad for that, that we were able to connect after ten years of relative quiet.

As for the Lab, I learned about the Old Man and working with the Old Man - namely, that he was a doddering fool. Oh, he may have seemed a kindly, if somewhat eccentric professor, but the man was clearly going senile. The Old Man would constantly forget minor actions, going back to pick up something he had already picked up, talking to someone he had already spoken to on the same subject, and even making another report on top of the one he had turned in less than ten minutes ago. He would also bring his young grandson around regularly, I don't even remember his name – doesn't help that the Old Man could never remember the name either, kept having to ask him to repeat it to him. For the first few months, it was actually a bit eerie to me – I had always been raised to see him with the greatest of respect, but in this light it was totally different. But after a while...well, I got used to it.

Eventually, one by one my fellow aides were picked off over the years. Jack was taken when I was fourteen, the result of a visiting female Professor, some choice words from Jack, and a contract for the Hoenn boy to move to the Orange Islands soon after. Cindy, meanwhile, just ran when I was nearing sixteen – along with a good number of Tauros, Ryhorn, and Nidorinos. No, I still don't know why she ran, or why she took those Pokemon with her. I suspect if I did know...well, I'd know a lot more about who she was. As they left, and the elderly Professor forgot or simply didn't think about hiring replacements, I was made to fulfill the same jobs they had once done until, after a while, it was just me and the Old Man in the lab. I learned in time how to feed, water, clean, and work with the various Pokemon the Old Man kept in the lab's study territory, and I learned in time how to work with and use the Electrical Computational Database for research and laboratory use. And, in time...I learned about the Pokedex.

The Pokedex. The blasted, good for nothing Pokedex.

I mean, I'm sure you have one on you, like most people I know, and I'm sure you're going to be all mad at me for saying this, but that damned Pokedex is a steaming pile of drivel. It tells you nothing – _nothing –_ about Pokemon that's any true use. I've looked at the files. I've looked at the records of earnest young trainers, researchers, and other people, sending in five and ten and even twenty page reports on all this stuff that they've found about the Pokemon species. And what comes out of all of it? Mythology. Rumors. Whatever three-sentence, half-assed statement the Old Man can put onto that device with a minimum of effort, interest, or actual work put into it. Oh, sure, when he first made it the Pokedex was the most cutting edge device of its day, and I won't begrudge him the fame and rewards for it, but it's the fact that it steadfastly refuses to move forwards, even when we have the capabilities to put so much more into it that irks me!

...Sorry, a bit of a tangent there. Anyways, I learned about the Pokedex, and I learned about how it was never going to change. Forever, even after constant revisions, it'll remain nothing more than a tiny little electronic factbook that pushes the idea of Pokemon as little more than mystical, supernatural beings. And from there, well..there grew my idea to someday overthrow the Old Man, to create a rival and one day superior of the Pokedex. Make no mistake...I learned to love Pokemon and their world as I labored at the Old Man's laboratory. But I also learned to be frustrated, to find the idea that the man I had trusted as the authority on things Pokemon was just that, an ailing man who couldn't even remember his grandson's own name.

On the other hand, I'm no hero, and certainly no activist – if that one day hadn't happened, I'd likely still be in Pallet, working there for him...or else with another Professor. But circumstances can change in the blink of an eye, and one day in summer, as I was nearing seventeen, my life did change.


	4. Chapter 3: In Which My Journey Begins

The day I unofficially began my journey had started like any other day that summer. I was working, as were all my schoolmates that had finished their journeys or had never gone on one. School was out for a while – even if the educational system called for the education of the youth year-round, the teachers and students both knew if they weren't let out for at least a few weeks during some of the hottest months of the year things would quickly get out of hand. As such, it was high time for most kids to start going on their Pokemon journeys if they were of age – and we were getting quite a few kids coming in. Heck, I think I even saw the Old Man's own grandson come in to get his Pokemon once...of course the Old Man forgot his name again.

I was not responsible, thankfully, for working with the kids. No, no, I was constantly kept busy with fixing the electronic tech problems, feeding and care for the Pokemon, making sure nothing broke down, opening and closing lines of communication between the laboratory and others far away, and a whole lot of other day to day jobs. Didn't mind much, really – at least I was getting paid for it, and the Old Man gave me a lot of freedom otherwise, I'll give him that much.

That day was one of the highest on record, I swear – 120 degrees and up in the shade, positively. It was only about noon, but already we had had over ten kids show up today to receive their first Pokemon. But no running out today – Jack, and I after him, started to make sure we always had at least a few extra starters on hand just to make sure my situation didn't happen again. The usual assortment had all been put out on display – Rattatas and Pidgeys aplenty in a variety of fur patterns and feather coloration, Caterpies and the odd Weedle crawling about in their vivariums, and even, quietly sleeping on one side of the room, a solitary Spearow. Nothing too rare, too dangerous, or too specialized – not a chance we would ever trust a ten year old with, say, a Clefairy, Charmander, or even a Geodude for their very first partner.

Anyways, a mother and her kid had just come in to start the process, and already the Old Man was up, smiling, bending down to ruffle the kid's forehead, the usual rigamarole. For his part, the kid looked pretty eager to get going – fresh new clothes and backpack, lunch box full of food, a canteen full of water, and a brand new belt with an empty spot just itching for a Pokeball to be clipped to it. But, before the Old Man started to ramble on about the miracles of Pokemon and how we must treat them as partners yadda yadda yadda, he remembered something.

Straightening up, he bade them wait for a second, then walked over to me. "Maxwell...Maxwell!"

Currently busy fighting in the tangled underbrush of the computer circuitry underneath the nearby desk, I extracted myself as quickly as I could from the mess, and stood up to respond, brushing the dirt that had gathered off my knees and hands. "Yes Professor?"

"Well, Maxwell, I've noticed it's a bit hot out today" Really now? I guess the sound of the fans blowing at three times their normal speed just to keep the AC flowing just never reached my ears. "And with all power just keeping this building cool, there's none available for the Pokemon outside – and none for the Cave. You know what that means?"

I nodded...and I honestly did know what he meant. The Cave out back was, yes, a small artificial cave which housed the local Zubat colony. Zubats preferred the cave in daylight for the coolness and darkness of the area, but in this heat? They'd be sweltering – and when Zubats got hot, they got really, really thirsty. "Another feeding, Professor?"

"Indeed. We can't let the little creatures cry themselves sick with thirst, my boy! Don't worry, I have complete confidence in your abilities in this weather – just give them one of the large containers."

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><p>Under the burning, merciless eye of the sun, I walked across the laboratory's ranch field towards the storage facility, sighing. I really, really didn't like feeding the zubats – not out of dislike or disgust for how it was done, however, but because no matter how much you could get behind the idea of safety and Pokemon happiness and gratitude and all that nice stuff, you always smelled horrible afterward.<p>

Inside the storage rooms were the supplies I needed for the Zubat colony feeding, which were just enlarged versions of the equipment one always needed to make the bloodsuckers content – a Tauros hide large enough to cover my entire upper torso and head, more hide leg-guards to cover my legs while still allowing movement, a small bucket of the blood used to feed the Pokemon for soaking the hides in, and finally a large, enclosed tub filled with the feeding 'dish': a fake Tauros carcass, filled with blood and with a permeable fake skin. All of these would be needed, for reasons clear to anyone who has ever been inside a cave and seen a Zubat swarm in person.

As I reached the entrance to the cave, kept securely latched during the day by a strong gate, I began to reluctantly go about the process of actually getting ready to feed the little blighters. The hide cover and wrappings were dipped into the small bucket, wetting and matting the hides, and then wrapped around my legs and – after making sure the _right_ side was facing out, covering my head and torso with the main hide. Carefully unlatching the gate entrance, and picking up the enclosed tub, I made my way inside the cave. Of course, it was already hot outside, and even hotter inside the cave – and under the heavy, blood-matted Tauros hide, I was already starting to sweat heavily. The sweat mixed with the coppery tang and odor of the blood, and intensified by the dank enclosure of the cave and the heat, creating a truly horrible stench that I'd need two washings under the chemical shower later just to get rid of.

Closing the gate behind me, latching it on the inside this time, I made my way further in the cave – it was very dark, the dirt floor and stone walls only dimly visible in the hazy blackness. And, before I crossed four feet inside the cave, the view grew even darker – as the rustling of hundreds of tiny wings could be heard opening up and swooping down. Almost immediately, I was best by the Zubat – hundreds of dark blue bodies and gaping, eyeless faces coming upon me, covering the hide and eagerly lapping at the blood that stained it. Their weight on top of the heavy, thick hide was even worse, and only increased the sweat rolling down my face and body, but I dared not take off the covering – zubats in this kind of thirst would gladly go for the blood running through my veins at this point if I was exposed, and while one wouldn't do much if any real harm a swarm of them could easily drain me enough to the point of fatality. As they lapped, the swarm emitted soft cries and squeaks, their voices softly washing over me and making me slightly dizzy. Still, I pressed on.

Eventually, I reached the central area of the cave, marked by a small central depression in the ground – the resting place for the carcass, and as far away from the entrance so I had time to leave before the swarm noticed my absence. Opening up the tub, the fake carcass was quickly dumped into the center – and as I backpedaled, the zubat swarm's attention was distracted to the real treat. Turning away and flying over to the carcass, they started to hungrily bite into and drain the blood out of it. And wham, bam, thank you ma'am – I could get out of the stinking hot cave, take a couple of showers, and get back to cleaner work. I began to quickly backpedal, but before I could full exit, I brushed against the wall – and heard an aggravated squeak of pain.

Well, damn – apparently, there was still a Zubat clinging on, and now I had accidentally bashed it against a stone wall. Truly, I was a paradigm of what it meant to be an aide. Cursing under my breath, I hurriedly took off as much off of the hide as I dared, squinting in the darkness and through the sweat threatening to enter my eyes to see the affected Pokemon, and if there was any damage. So far as I could see...nothing out of the unusual – a blue winged rat a third my size, mouth full of very, very sharp teeth opening and closing slightly as it...well, it had no eyes but if it did I'd swear they were looking at me, and blue and purple all over. Other than the slightly smaller fangs that marked it as a female, and the purple fur banding around its then-straight hooked 'legs', it looked like it was just a normal bat that happened to still be feeding. Oh, how very, very wrong I was...

Nonetheless, at the time I just sighed, picked up the Zubat with both hands without much of a protest, and firmly sent it facing back to the rest of the swarm creating a furry blue writhing pile all over the carcass . Then, carefully turning it upside down and attaching its little hook ends to the ceiling (the species tended to get cranky when just left on the ground), I let it go and got the heck out of there. I left the cave, my underclothing now nearly soaked through with the sweat, and gladly took off the hide and left it by the side of the cave, next to the tub I shortly afterward chucked to the side. And...that's where it happened.

I was sure – so sure I had locked the gate! I was almost positive! And yet...well, I don't know what happened still. But with what I know now, I think I can get a mental image in my head...of a gate left closed but unlocked, and of a small, blue, furry head made mostly of mouth and teeth and ears poking out, staring curiously and hungrily at my retreating body...

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><p>I had come back to the laboratory shortly afterward, being very careful to avoid the Old Man and the mother and son on my way in – Hey, when you're smelling like a combination of sweat, Zubat fur, blood, and a very old and worm dead Tauros skin, most people tend to avoid you first – I was doing them a favor. And the first thing I did, of course, was to jump in that chemical shower. I didn't even care my clothing was going to get wet, I had a spare change tucked away in the back for situations such as these – presentation and all that was important to the Old Man, after all.<p>

The chemical shower managed to take away much of the stench, and as I changed into another clean set of clothes and lab coat, I covered the rest up with some spray. Now glad to be back into the much more cooler environs of the lab, I prepared to meet up and report to the Old Man, now showing the eager youngster an equally eager looking Rattata. I was just about to engage him in conversation when there was a small, almost imperceptible shudder. The Old Man, the kid, and I didn't notice it at all – but the mother straightened up, and suddenly asked, "Excuse me, Professor, but...did you hear some kind of noise outside?" The Old Man looked at me, and I shrugged. Neither of us had heard it, and the Old Man was going to say just that when there came another shudder...and this time, we heard it. It was a strange sound...almost like a rumbling, or perhaps a kind of distortion as the air was being whipped around by hundreds of tiny...

And then, I realized where the source of the sound was coming from. As I turned, horror starting to dawn on my face as I realized the only possible source of the noise was coming from, the others turned towards the rear of the lab – where the entrance to the cave was. The Old Man peered, seeing the slow build up of dark shapes approaching the doorway, and started to speak. "What in the..."

After that, erm, well...things got a little blurry.

I can still distinctly remember the sound of around three hundred Zubats forcing open the door to the lab by the sheer weight of their numbers, because that's just not the sort of thing one can forget. And I can still recall the swarm of blue, purple, and white racing towards the four of us, led by a zubat with shorter teeth and striped banding around her legs...

And then the swarm descended upon us, and the bat that I had accidentally smooshed into the wall earlier flew straight at me to clamp down on my face.

When I came to about half an hour later, the first thing I noticed was that I was very dizzy and had some trouble standing. Apparently, as the Old Man would explain to me while helping me stand, I had lost about twelve percent of my total blood volume from the bat that had so recently attached itself to my face – the Pokemon responsible now contentedly snoozing in the rafters of the laboratory, tiny stomach quite full with my blood. I shook a fist at the creature in a weak attempt to express both my anger at it, and at myself – it, however, paid no mind. Of the enormous Zubat swarm, none could be seen...but Oak was disheveled, as was the mother next to him. The kid, for his part, was by now happily playing with his new Rattata, apparently having gotten over the terror of a throng of bats attempting to suck his blood out.

The next ten minutes consisted of apologizing to and congratulating the mother – she had been the one to ultimately hold off the swarm until Oak could lead them back to the cave, taking her fair share of lumps as she whirled her purse around in a hail of bat-concussions. Afterward, the kid and his mother existed to return home – and the Old Man, after several minutes of awkward silence between us in the now empty-lab, began to speak to me.

"Maxwell," he started, with a combination of hesitance – rare for the Old Man – and his usual vague cheeriness, "I have begun to realize in the past few weeks that you seem to be...lacking goal in your life. You're a bright young man, and you should have been out on your journey long ago. And what with this incident, well..."

Uh-huh, sure Old Man. Concern for my well-being, play it up.

"Though you obviously probably wouldn't want to go on your journey this late in life, I'm in need of a person who can go out, see the world, and bring me back reports of new and mysterious Pokemon out in the wild. A field aide, if you will. It would give you an opportunity to make up for the opportunity lost when you were younger, and you could be of immense help in gathering more knowledge for the lab!...What say you?"

Oh, I'll repeat what I said earlier – the Old Man might be senile as all get out, but he was a clever man. And this was an incredibly clever move on this part. That kind of thinking...well, I may hate him, but he was good. Very good.

If I left to be an official "Field Aide", I would be expected to hand in reports of my findings on a regular basis, same as the others who were out on assignments and submitting their reports in to him through me. Of course, because you were out in the field for long periods of time and doing who knows what, you were expected to go earn money from battling, same as semi-professional trainers – so the Old Man wouldn't have to pay me a regular paycheck anymore. If I did exceptionally well and was a poster boy of virtue and battling or research prowess later in life, he could hop on that claim by using that link to me and attract more fame for himself. If I did something really bad, he could cut all ties and claim that's the very reason he sent me out. And from personal experience, I knew pretty much nothing I sent in would ever make it into the Pokedex...ever. The Old Man would keep on putting in the same contrived facts, rumors, mythology, and so forth because he didn't have to actually put anything in – the Pokedex was already a legend in itself, and he was going to keep getting money rolling in no matter what.

And if I chose not to go out to be a field aide? Well, the Old Man had me there as well – I'd be fine for a week, and then he'd have to call me in and 'reluctantly' boot me out because of negative publicity from the Zubat incident. Heck, he probably thought he was doing me a favor this way...and the troublesome part was, it likely really was. And really, I had no choice. The answer was obvious, and my plan for what to do in life – or rather, the gestation of the plan, it wasn't completely born into existence yet, was made.

I would take his offer. And then I would just go under the radar. No more working for the Old Man, not for me. I would go be a free agent – take my own data, collect my own sources, make my own contacts – and then I'd make a rival to the Pokedex. Something that contained REAL information. Something that would one day topple his monopoly.

"Yes, Professor...I'll take the assignment."

So we agreed, he told me of the lack of paycheck for the job, we shook hands, and everything seemed to be going relatively okay. And then, right when I was about to leave the lab – for the last time, likely – the Old Man remembered one last thing. "Wait, wait my boy! It's dangerous to go alone...here, I've registered this Pokemon as belonging to you, you'd better take her for your safety out there."

I turned, surprised – the Old Man had actually just given me a Pokemon, not even requiring me to spend money on buying one? At first, I thought that was a little generous. And then I saw the Pokemon in his hands – a blue, two foot tall Zubat, mouth gaping open in a somewhat disturbing approximation of a joyful grin, and little bands of purple around her legs.

Oh, that Old Man was a joker alright.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey all, ProudAmerikan here. For those of you who've reviewed and read so far - thanks, really. Always good to at least know people are reading, and my rantings and story stuff isn't all for naught.<strong>

**Anyways, you might be noticing I don't actually have that many author's notes in the story, and that's going to be the case for quite a few chapters. I'll only drop in a note in response to some particularly helpful or informative reviews, or when there's a major shift about to go down storywise.**

**In this case, it's the end of the total introduction! We've gotten past the origins, and from here on for a definate while it's all about the journey. They say its better than the destination, so should be good, eh?**


	5. Chapter 5: In Which I Say Goodbye

It was only a few short days since the Old Man had, with great respect and confidence, thrown me out on my ass. No more would my growth as a human being be stunted by working the same tasks day in and day out, by being confined to the same two cities and the route between them, by remaining blissfully unaware of the greater world by working as a professor's aide. No, now I was out into the world at large – free to do whatever I wanted, go wherever I wished, be whoever I wanted to be.

And man, did I hate it at the time.

It's not like the world's a nice place, mind you, but at least after you've had to slog through most of it tired and hungry you start to appreciate the nicer bits a little. But just starting out, I was clueless and hopeless. Had a plan, had no ideas about how to accomplish it. Had a Pokemon, had no idea how to actually bond or work with it. Had some idea of how freaking insane the rest of the world was, wanted no part with it at all. In other words, I was up the creek without a paddle.

Meanwhile, there was also the issue of my new, and first, Pokemon – the Zubat. After weighing the merits of just accepting the situation as was and cursing the Old Man for his sense of humor, or just dumping the thing by the side of the road and skipping town, I eventually chose to reluctantly take her along, for a number of reasons. Most obvious was of course the legal repercussions that would hit me like a jackhammer should I have gone with the latter choice, as well as the ethical wrongness of such an act, but there was another key factor – the bloodsucker wouldn't let go of my face when I tried to let her out the first time we were outside. Her leaving of her own will was apparently not going to be an option at this point.

Never being much for names, and feeling mildly peeved – uh, that's the word I'll go with, peeved – at the time towards her, the Zubat quickly received an official name: Sucker. And for the entirety of my walk, later in the afternoon, back along Route 1 towards Veridian City, I started to connect and learn more about her.

For one, I learned that the connection was going to get very, very physical in the bad way if I just left her in the Pokeball all the time. As it turns out, unleashing an eager, young, and non-too-trained Zubat out from their ball without something to focus their attention onto usually results in a face full of bat, blood trickling down your face, and resulting dizziness or, if the creature was really hungry, unconsciousness. After about the third time that happened, Sucker got to stay out as long as she wished – the higher powers know I wasn't doing it out of friendship yet so much as personal protection at that point. At some point, I'd have to go find out just how people kept Zubats and their – shudder – evolution back in the old days.

For her part, Sucker was a cheerful counterpart to my more...well, you probably wouldn't have thought it possible, but I tended to have a pessimistic demeanor early in life. Aside from her proclivity to attack my face every time I sent her outside her pokeball, she was well-mannered, and could keep up with me easily (though she did prefer to snooze when otherwise not occupied during the day) in walking. On a more optimistic note, however, Sucker herself wasn't...too bad, aside from the whole 'wants to eat my face and drain the blood from my still warm corpse' habit. Once the initial face diving was done, the little Pokemon was almost downright cheerful, albeit somewhat sleepy as well considering it wasn't quite dark yet. Not having any particular area to perch on, she favored the white brim of the back of my lab coat (fortunately, I was allowed to keep that at least), unsheathing and latching her hooked ends to it and swinging gently to and fro as I walked. She was also fairly vocal, making ecstatic (I assumed) vocalizations of her name every time I called her out (until I stopped, at least...), making small yips and cries every time I directly touched her, and even humming somehow when allowed to swing upside down over my back.

You know, there's been many a time I'm glad I've had Sucker there to watch my back, over the course of my travels. Even looking back, when both of us were bursting to the seams with piss and vinegar, I like to think there was a spark that connected us. Maybe it was a spark of buddy comedy irony, maybe it was something more true, but for all that I may voice my grievances with the little creature, I'm glad she was my partner.

...On the other hand, that's jumping the gun a bit! Now, where was I...and yes, another drink would be nice...

...

Anyways, the first hour or so of Sucker and my journey of dominance and hopeful nonviolence was spent almost entirely in walking all the way back from the Old Man's lab to Viridian City, via Route 1. It was peaceful, gentle countryside all the way, perfect for new trainers just starting out, with low rolling hills full of low, green grass and gentle dips. A dirt road helped to mark a path for easier walking as well as for any vehicles that happened to be passing by, but even that took the opportunity to wind to and fro, allowing anyone on it to look around and see the sights. The sky was nothing but blue, marked with a few clouds that helped break it up from endless exposure, and framed by, in the distance, the horizon – light hills with forests to the left and right as we walked and/or perched northwards, the small township of Pallet Town to our backs, and the few but mighty towers of Viridian City before our eyes.

Coming back into the city limits, for once in my life I actually drew some glances on the way to my home. My father and I lived relatively near the edge of town, but it was still a good five blocks or so, and so neighbors I had known for most of my life (though none of them well) could immediately tell what was new about me. They weren't afraid to comment on the fact either.

"Ey, sonny, looks like you got yourself a blue beaut there!"

"Hey, hey Max! Is that a Pokemon? Is it? It is!"

"Oh, Maxwell, really? A Zubat? Those things are simply...well, urgh!"

I ignored them all, acknowledging the polite ones at least with a small smile and a nod before moving on, but my pace increased a bit with each comment until, by the time the door to my house was in sight, I was darn near running. Well, wouldn't be missing my neighbors at least – sure, they were probably nice people, but heck if I'd ever know that. Instead, I focused all my efforts on getting inside the house, and once in I was able to relax.

The inside of the house was fairly small, little more than a living and dining room, small kitchenette, and then two bedrooms surrounding a single bathroom. It was dark – the windows were kept partially covered, but they were also open, and there was enough of a breeze and light to make the whole place strangely dark while also slightly airy. My father was quietly napping on the futon – no surprise there, as his daily work took all the energy out of him normally. I sat down next to him, and lightly asked him, "Father?"

After a minute, he seemed to roll over, and Sucker squeaked in curiosity. My father seemed to rise so quickly, it was as if he had literally been stung. His eyes became wild, hands grasping wildly at his waist...as if to try and grab nonexistent pokeballs.

I thought I knew what had happened. "Father, father, it's okay! It's alright! You're at home, you're safe, this is not a cave. I have...I have a Pokemon, a Zubat."

My father seemed to calm down, eyes blinking open and shut blearily as his brain process the information. "Maxwell, my boy...you...have a Zubat?"

I told him everything...er, mostly everything. The part about maybe having accidentally letting out the Zubat horde I left out (he really didn't need to know that, after all). But of the swarm attack, Oak making me a field agent, giving me Sucker...all that I did tell him. And after it was all said and done, my father nodded. "I...I see."

He turned, and wiped his eye – must have gotten sand or something in it – before turning back, and placing his arms around me. "I will miss you, Maxwell. For a long time, longer than it has been for...for a while, I will be alone. But know that I will support you in whatever you do."

"I know, father. I know."

We hugged, we said our goodbyes, and I went to pack my stuff. Thanks to the Personal Computer systems in every Pokemon Center, things like changes of clothing, food stuffs, even various entertainment things could be safely stored in cyberspace and not taken with me...but still, first aide, emergency food, and medical supplies were always needed. So was cash, and I took all the cash I felt reasonable safe carrying. As for defense, I had a knife – little more than a pocketknife, sure, but it could cut things and that made it multipurpose, so I figured it was worth it.

Before I left, I hugged my father one last time, and he said his last words in person for an unknown period of time to me. "Son...whether you want to admit it or not, this will be your journey. And for their journey...everyone is different. Some people love it, others hate it. Your mother...your mother loved hers. I couldn't wait to stop it. But, Maxwell...wherever you go, whatever you find yourself in...do it with your loved ones in your heart, and your best friend by your side."

I must admit, I shed a tear at that. Very emotional...and I still keep his words with me. Even in the middle of a forsaken rainforest, lost desert, or hopless snowstorm, my father will be in my heart.

* * *

><p>Leaving my house, the way out of Viridian looked to be relatively uneventful, until...<p>

"Say...you there! Sonny, with the blue beaut!"

It was Jenkins, the elderly neighbor who lived two doors ahead of us. He had been one of those who had commented on Sucker, but now he had closed the gap, and his peachy, wrinkled, and entirely bald head was now grinning at me, one good eye staring me in the face. Jenkins had to be nearing eighty years old, easily the oldest man in the city, but yet he was seemingly still going on strong. Perhaps it was the coffee.

"Yeah, Mr. Jenkins?" I responded. Best not to piss the old guy off – he was good at throwing things, he was good at biting things, and his teeth were false. All three resulted in a deadly combination that could make him literally chew your ass out at a hundred meters. Instead, as the old man ambled closer, I gave him my best charming smile that went nowhere near my eyes. His, however, were to busy looking at Sucker.

"Well now, I'll be...that's a right Purple-Ringed Zubat you got there now, ain't it sonny? Whyuh, back in my time it was said only the real good, high up royals were allowed to have one of them..." Okay, at least the Old Man didn't tend to ramble on in such a sterotypical way as Jenkins..."Say...you going on your journey, boy?"

"Uh..." How could I word this..."In a way, sir. I'm becoming a field assistant to the Professor."

"Really? Hah! That old man got you doing all his work for him even as a trainer now, eh?" Okay, scratch that, I liked Jenkins now more than ever, "Well now, I reckon I actually got something to give you then, as a parting gift...genuine, once belonged to my uncle, and he was a royal! Follow me, boy!"

He took off down the street surprisingly fast, and with a minor protest from Sucker, who had to give up sleeping and actually hover after me as I took off, I followed Jenkins to his home. Naturally, once I got there I wasn't actually allowed in – instead, I got to stand in front of his roses and hear him cursing as he tossed either precious antiques or junk about inside for a good eight minutes or so before he came out again. Sucker was now awake, and if she had eyes both me and her would be staring at Jenkins' gift for us.

It was several gifts, rather, and ancient ones at that – I don't think he was joking when Jenkins said they were his uncle's originally: A solitary right handed black glove, made from thick leather and looking like it could survive being caught in a Charizard's gullet; a similarly black face hood the exact size of a zubat, with a crude steel zipper over the mouth section and holes for the ears to poke out of; and a single, old steel tuning fork. Truly, I had no idea what the heck they were for, and I voiced as much, though in a politer tone, to the old man who had given them to me.

Jenkins chuckled, and proceeded to explain. "Well, sonny, you ever hear of an old sport called, eh...Batting? For the Royals – they'd have their own Zubats, and they'd hunt with them, do all sorts of tricks and moves! Until every man and his son could just catch 'em in the caves, it was considered a sign of skill to own one! I figure you might have the potential boy...you take them, and do well with them!"

Well, I highly doubted his words, especially since any man and his son COULD, yes, catch them nowadays, but best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I thanked him, and then silently shaking my head at my new 'gifts', took off to get out of town.


End file.
